Margaret's tasks were very light that night; her little mistress did not
detain her ten minutes. When she had gone, and she was fairly alone,
Mollie sprung up and went whirling round the room in a dance of delight.
"To think of it!" she cried--"to think all my wildest dreams should
come true like this, and my life go on like a fairy tale! There is
Mr. Walraven, the good genii of the story; Mrs. Walraven, the old but
well-meaning fairy godmother; and I'm Cinderella, with the tatters and
rags turned to cloth of gold, and nothing to do but wait at my ease for
the fairy prince, and marry him when he comes. Cricket! Cricket! you're
the luckiest witch's granddaughter that ever danced to her own shadow!"
CHAPTER III.
MR. WALRAVEN'S WEDDING.
Mollie Dane made herself very much at home at once in the magnificent
Walraven mansion. The dazzle of its glories scarcely lasted beyond the
first day, or, if it did, nobody saw it. Why, indeed, should she be
dazzled? She, who had been Lady Macbeth, and received the Thane of
Cawdor at her own gates; who had been Juliet, the heiress of all the
Capulets; who had seen dukes and nobles snubbed unmercifully every night
of her life by virtuous poverty, on the stage.
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